


The Nightmare

by Lindzzz



Series: The Evil Boyfriends Series [14]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Creepy Pitch, Cuddles, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Pitch no, kind of, the wrong person is being comforted here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 15:53:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindzzz/pseuds/Lindzzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which someone has a nightmare and someone else needs some comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nightmare

It hits Pitch as soon as he walks into the lair.  
  
There’s _fear_.  
  
Filling the air and saturating the stone. It’s something bitter and sweet that invades his lungs and fills his essence. It floods him and he nearly falls to his knees, he has to catch himself on the wall, anchoring himself in the shadows because it’s so, so perfect and heady and everywhere.  
  
Pitch spends a few moments leaning into the wall, breathing deeply and ignoring the air because it’s the FEAR he inhales.  He doesn’t even wonder where it’s from or why it’s in his lair, he’s too lost in it.  It’s like a finely distilled drug specifically made only for him, like a perfectly aged wine that he somehow only just now discovered.  
  
He wants to bottle this and savor it whenever he gets a chance.  He wants to wrap himself up in this fear and lose everything else because he’s quite sure he could sustain himself on this and this alone.  Pitch could die now and become nothing but a shadow as long as he could still somehow soak himself in this fear.  
  
It’s pulsing in the air like a beautiful heartbeat and every tremor of it slides down his spine like a caress.  The sheer force of it leaves him shaking against the wall, wondering which way is up and feeling like he’s been pulled inside out in the most exquisite manner.  
  
And what is this doing in his home?  
  
The question creeps in past the sheer ecstasy of the fear, makes itself known and solidifies him enough that he can pull away from where he’s leaning on the wall. The fear only gets stronger as he stumbles deeper into the caverns and he has to keep one hand on the stone to stay grounded. It’s glorious and perfect and the most wonderfully quiet deep fear he has ever tasted, but it could be incredibly dangerous.  
  
Pitch could lose himself entirely in this fear.  
  
So he focuses on the stone as he follows the aroma of terror.  He can’t even wonder at the source, his mind is so clouded.  His hand trails along the wall beside him, lethargic and listless and he feels like he’s wandering through a haze as he meanders further and further into his home.  Stars above this is far too good.  
  
It’s like a sudden drop and an explosion in his mind when he comes across the ice.  The fear is strongest here and ice creeps along the stone, popping and cracking menacingly as it coats the floor and Jack it’s Jack JACK.  
  
He nearly falls again as his own panic collides with the sweet fear because it’s perfect and cloying and wondrous but JACK is being terrified something is scaring his Jack and Jack doesn’t get scared it doesn’t happen Jack doesn’t fear he doesn’t cower something had to have come in and hurt him and left him terrified and filling the air with his syrupy drugged fear and something happened while Pitch was gone something terrible and JACK---

 

His legs are moving before he’s even done panicking.  He runs into the shadows and over the ice, runs through the sweet fear that clouds his thoughts while his blood pounds in his ears and his lungs become tight and solid.  The fear only makes him stronger even as it drugs him, it makes the scythe that much sharper as he calls it into his hand, makes the dark even blacker while he sees red and breathes red and rage through the inhales of that fear.  
  
When he finally finds Jack he nearly collapses for a third time.  Jack who is uninjured but curled like a tiny animal within his pile of cushions.  He’s small and shivering and Pitch watches as each tremble sends a small pulse of ice traveling along the walls and floor.  
  
He’s vulnerable and soft and shaking and sleeping fitfully while the Nightmare watches him with a curious interest.  
  
Pitch feels like he’s intruding on something. Like he’s walked in on something intimate and private. The Nightmare almost looks like a sentry, standing over and watching his Jack while the boy curls into a tighter ball.  Pitch lets go of the scythe and walks in cautiously. The fear is strong and perfect, it’s the sort of quiet and deep seated fear that was always so much better than any screams or jumps in the dark. And now he can feel the fear AND see Jack create it.  
  
It’s with a quiet reverence that Pitch lowers himself down next to Jack, a soft awe that has him reaching but not quite touching.  Jack is a delicate little creature made of spun ice and soft flesh.  The flush along his cheeks makes the rest of his skin look even more white, makes every facial twitch more pronounced as he frowns and winces.  
  
Pitch lifts one finger, slowly, painfully, traces the tip along the furrows between Jack’s brows.  His breath shudders out of him while he runs his finger over the way Jack’s fear comes through his muscles and skin while the air blankets and smothers him with the feel of Jack’s fear over his tongue and down his throat, in his lungs and pulling through his veins.

  
Oh it would be Jack, it would have to be Jack making such a fear.  Only Jack that could make something so perfect and finely tuned.  Jack’s fear is as complex and beautiful as his frost, as intricate as the swirling patterns on a window and as sweet as the crisp air on a winter morning.  
  
Jack makes a sound as Pitch runs a fingertip over his cheek, a muffled, desperate and broken little whimper that steals all coherency from Pitch’s thoughts.  It’s a single note of a perfect symphony, a broken little animal noise that is so like the sounds Jack makes while Pitch is inside him and taking him and breaking his mind down.  Only now there’s a slightly different tone to it, just a chord of difference that makes Pitch want to know if Jack’s screams would sound different in the same beautiful, subtle way.  
  
But screams involve pain, screams are something that involves tearing and destroying and no sounds would be worth breaking Jack that way.  
  
He moves and curls his hand around Jack’s face, cradles the curve of his cheek in his palm and rests his fingertips over Jack’s forehead so he can feel it crease and twitch with every wave of fear.  
  
Pitch needs to know, needs to see what has made his brash and bold Jack into this quiet little creature that whimpers and quivers under his touch.  He inhales deeply, feels light-headed and giddy and overwhelmed by the terror that floods him as he leans in.  Before he can draw in the next breath he sinks into Jack’s shadow, dives down into him and drowns in the fear.  
  
 _Jack wanders the lair and he’s lost but that can’t be right this is home he can’t be lost here only those who aren’t welcome get lost in Pitch’s world.  Jack could wander aimlessly for days and always end up in the main cavern or wherever Pitch is at the time, all the corridors and arches and twisting stairs lead to Pitch whenever Jack walks through them.  Pitch is always there always there to draw him in and make him believed in but Jack is lost now and the walls grow darker and the air grows warmer._  
  
 _“Pitch?”_  
  
 _His voice sounds too loud and not loud enough. It bounces off the stone and falls flat on his own ears, not even an echo left in it’s wake.  There’s no sound, nothing to indicate he’s even there.  He can’t hear his own footsteps can’t hear his feet hitting the stone as he starts running and can’t hear his own ragged breathing as it wrenches in his lungs and moves through his throat as a strangled desperate cry._  
  
 _“Pitch!”_  
  
 _There’s nothing there’s nothing but silence and this isn’t right!  Jack is home down here this isn’t a place of fear for him he’s welcome he’s wanted he’s needed he’s real and solid and believe in here!_  
  
 _There’s a shadow ahead and he nearly cries then when he recognizes Pitch’s tall figure.  Jack runs faster, desperate and panicked but it’s ok Pitch is there Pitch can make it better Pitch can touch him and make him real again and make him solid and make it so he can hear his own sounds in the dark Pitch can make the silence go away._  
  
 _Jack is almost laughing with relief when he catches up to where Pitch is, almost weeps from the joy of it when Pitch turns to face him.  He’s laughing and smiling and ready to run into those long arms no matter how ridiculous he’s being as Pitch walks towards him with that purposeful stride._  
  
 _And goes through him._  
  
 _His insides fill with molten heat and the heat rips through him and takes everything from him, it tears the lungs from his chest and leaves his organs scattered over the floor as Jack screams and clutches at his chest._  
  
 _“No!  No Pitch Pitch look at me Pitch!”  He runs over to Pitch, who walks on who doesn’t even look down at him.  Pitch who is simply patrolling his lair with a slight frown as if he’s thinking of something but who doesn’t blink as Jack screams at him._  
  
 _“Pitch look at me! Pitch please please I’m real please look at me I’m right here!  Please!”  He grabs at Pitch’s arm, screams when his fingers fall through like smoke and as Pitch goes on.  Jack is sobbing and flings himself in Pitch’s path again and again and Pitch just walks through him and doesn’t blink doesn’t look down Pitch can’t see him he doesn’t believe in Jack he doesn’t see him because Jack isn’t real._  
  
 _“No no no no no please oh god Pitch please please look at me please no don’t don’t don’t please I’m real!”_  
  
Jack-  
  
 _“Pitch Pitch I believe in you please please just look at me I’m real I know I am please Pitch don’t do this!”_  
  
Jack!  
  
 _There are shadows wrapping around his legs and arms and dragging him away from Pitch there are hands pulling him into the dark where he’ll never be heard again and he screams and thrashes because he’s real!  He’s real and just needs Pitch to see him and-_  
  
“Jack!  Wake up!”  Pitch digs his fingers in tighter, fights the urge to shake Jack but he needs to stop needs it to stop!  It’s too much and his throat is raw and tight and he can only breathe again when Jack jolts and wakes up with a gasp.  
  
Blue eyes dart around, wide and confused as Jack clings to Pitch’s arms.  “What- Pitch?”  
  
Pitch wraps around him, crumples Jack against his chest and buries one hand in damp white hair while he digs the fingers of his other hand into Jacks back.  “It’s alright Jack it’s alright stop stop I’m here you’re real I can see you just stop I have you I believe in you you’re alright.”  
  
“What-?”  
  
“I’m right here right here Jack you’re real you’re my Jack and I believe in you just-just-”  His breath comes in quick bursts while he tries to get Jack closer but it’s not close enough that was all too much.  His head is full of buzzing and the echoes of Jack’s screams and it had been beautiful and terrible and too familiar it was all too much and now he can’t get Jack close enough and he can’t find the air to breathe.  
  
“Pitch?  Pitch hey-”  There’s cold on his face, small hands on his cheekbones, pulling his head down to rest his forehead against Jack’s.  The air is cold here and he can feel the chilled puffs as Jack exhales and breathes against him.  “C’mon Pitch it was just...I just had a bad dream calm down.”  
  
He sucks in the cold air that comes from Jack’s lungs.  Feels it cool his insides and bring him back down and leave him feeling drained and wrung out.  He presses his lips to Jack’s, kisses him again and again while he puts himself back together.  
  
There’s a smile against his lips even as the dregs of Jack’s fear hang in the air.  “Hey. hey come on-”  Jack laughs into his kisses, shaky hands petting back through his hair.  “Stop that hey-  I’m the one who just had a nightmare here!”  
  
“I know I know you did I know just don’t-”  He presses himself into the next kiss, wraps his hands around Jack’s head and feels how solid he is feels how he laughs against Pitch’s lips and how cold and soft his mouth is.  
  
“What is your- why did you wake me up?  I thought you’d like that, it’s just your kind of weirdness.”  
  
Jack keeps talking and it’s making kissing his mouth difficult, so Pitch moves to press his lips over everything else instead.  He leaves hard kisses over Jack’s cheeks and nose and forehead and maps his features in Pitch’s lips, talking quickly between desperate presses.  
  
“It was beautiful and wonderful it was the finest fear I ever tasted.  Jack oh Jack your fear alone could keep me going it was like the headiest and most consuming drug it was like a wondrous and gorgeous death it was perfect and don’t ever do it again!”  
  
Jack laughs and burrows further against Pitch, thin arms wrapping around his middle and faces tilted up into Pitch’s constant barrage of kisses.  “Ok ok!  Just keep your stupid horses off me when I nap then!”  
  
Pitch leans in further, pushes his cheek against Jack’s and breathes his cold and his calm.  He stays there, feeling Jack solid and real and smiling.  
  
Jack huffs a small, confused laugh as he rubs circles over Pitch’s back, letting himself get crushed and smothered with minimal protest.  
  
Neither of them move for hours.


End file.
